The Ortega Gambit: A classic crime thriller Page 13

  It was almost over now. Marching across the room, surprise registered in Charles' face. She shrugged her shoulders, unsure if it was her new self-styled spiky blonde hair that provoked such a response, or the fact she was in her underwear.

  "What happened to your hair?"

  "Hide your eyes and no peeking. So help me God, I will beat you with my shoe."

  She dressed in the only outfit she brought: black leggings, a striped tank top, and a loose T-shirt. She cinched the T-shirt with a knot above her waist, showing off a sliver of belly.

  "You can look. What do you think?"

  His awkward posture seemed to indicate a thoughtful curiosity. Eventually, he approached her with a reserved suspicion, as though someone else had emerged from the bathroom other than his nanny. He watched her apply lipstick then black eyeliner, completing her physical transformation.

  He said, "I'm afraid. I want to go home."

  She didn't answer for a long time, aware that Charles had a vague idea about the madness that had engulfed them both. But the sharp sense of loss she felt, the loss of her new life, was a feeling that wouldn't disappear by running away. She needed to think about her next move.

  "Are we staying for the night?"

  "I don't know."

  "Lucina, I just want to go home."

  "This we cannot do. Not right away."

  "What's wrong? Are those men coming back?"

  What better way to prove things were ok than to take him out, as though the worst was behind them? She said, "What about the carousel? Would you like to try?" She gestured out the window. Across the lawn, multi-colored lights flashed from inside the carousel like a beacon. She grabbed her shoulder bag which felt uncomfortable and heavy. Remembering what was in her bag, she shoved the gun under the mattress, lessening her load.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  IN THE HUMID night, Lucina and Charles waited in a short line for their tickets. Charles, bounced on his feet, unable to contain his excitement. After they purchased their tickets, they waited for their turn in yet another line, this one circling the merry-go-round. Lucina’s mind drifted. She tried to remember clues from the last few days. Any warning, any omen that would have forewarned her situation. Becoming anxious, she was about to split with Charles, nearly overwhelmed with emotion. But then it was their turn. Sometime around 9:00 p.m., Lucina and Charles mounted two white unicorns with discordant music blaring from the mechanical steam organ.

  The ride lurched to life, the unicorns pumped up and down, and both nanny and child squealed in delight. Mirrors lined the walls, and Lucina caught flashes of her reflection clutching her shoulder bag and somehow smiling as the merry-go-round turned.

  Charles couldn't stop laughing, and for a brief moment his unrestrained joy made Lucina forget her worries. The merry-go-round finished and Charles and Lucina agreed to go once more. They exited the building, queued again, and claimed their seats on the same pair of unicorns.

  A group of ten young women stumbled onto the merry-go-round deck in a blur of pastel sundresses, designer high heels, and drunk faces decorated with heavy makeup. They argued with the ride operator, and after a long delay he allowed them onto the ride. Lucina stared at them with a searing intensity, cursing fate that had damned her so cruelly when these other women could smile upon her with privilege and affluence. Seriously, she wondered if anyone in the group had experienced desperation or fear? Shrill laughter followed when the merry-go-round started and the young women all spoke at once like a flock of yammering seagulls. They swore loudly over the music and talked about their upcoming night, an impressive feat considering the volume of the steam organ.

  After the first pass, the merry-go-round reached its peak velocity. The rhythm of the loud music and the noise of the machinery combined to form a hypnotic spell. Lucina imagined for a split second that her problems had vanished into thin air, and that when the music stopped her life would return to normal. Then she saw the one called Fat Mikey standing near the ticket booth, not in line but guarding the front door with a ticket in his hand, killing her fantasy. She swallowed hard. A half-turn more and she glimpsed Vincenzo, lean as a greyhound, also inside the carousel building, pacing near the exit. She had at most three minutes until the carousel stopped. Three minutes until they were upon her.

  The group of young women continued swearing loudly.

  "You mind not using those words," Lucina shouted at the girl nearest her, who also happened to be the loudest.

  Amongst themselves, the young women laughed and swore even louder.

  "What's wrong with your hair? The '80s called and wants your hair back. Hashtag gross. Besides, this is my bestie's bachelorette party and no one is going to tell us how to behave. Bitch." Incredulous, the woman's eyes followed Lucina with a disgusted expression.

  Lucina's fingers went to her hair and she pulled at a section above her ear and then her fingertips dropped to her cheek, suddenly aware of how she must look. Her hair a jagged mess. Her lips painted a garish apple red. In the reflection, she wore a new look, one of acute anger.

  Charles had been a spectator in all this and followed with a nervous anticipation of what would happen next.

  "Why don't you mind your own fucking business?" another said.

  Lucina said, "Watch the words. Please, there are kids around. Families."

  One of the girls flipped her the bird.

  Lucina started to dismount when Charles leaned forward and grabbed her arm.

  "Don't. It's not—"

  She jerked her arm free. "Stay here." With her eyes dark as flint, Lucina marched up to the first girl, moving from one horse to the next. The ride slowed. Music still blared from the overhead speakers.

  When Lucina reached the young woman dressed in a pink dress and a strand of pearls around her neck, her hair cut in a cute flip, the woman said, "What are you going to do? Hit me?"

  The merry-go-round jerked to a stop. Lucina lost her footing and nearly fell forward. The young woman laughed. Lucina regained her footing and lunged at the young girl in the pink dress like her life depended on it.

  Twenty minutes earlier, Fat Mikey and Tony Pipes pulled up in a 3-series BMW alongside Vincenzo and Nino, still in their boosted Audi. Fat Mikey powered down his window so he could talk to the wop assassins in the Audi. Fat Mikey looked annoyed. A freshly washed black limousine parked on the other side of Fat Mikey with a group of women celebrating a bachelorette party. None of the girls were older than twenty-five he guessed. They took turns drinking champagne straight from the bottle while standing in the sunroof. One wore a tiara and a sash.

  "Stupid broads," Fat Mikey said, frowning.

  "Look, look, look." Vincenzo gestured frantically to the sidewalk.

  In front of them passed the nanny, now a short punk-haired blonde, holding the boy's hand. Fat Mikey's eyes followed Lucina for a moment until distracted by a young woman vomiting in a garbage can near his car. "Fucking amateur hour," he muttered.

  Lucina and child bought their tickets and then disappeared inside the carousel building.

  Vincenzo took a hit from his inhaler.

  The men closed in on the carousel building, the pipe organ music loud in their ears.

  Fat Mikey paid for a ticket but stood inside the carousel structure waiting in an unlit area beside the ticket area. Vincenzo slipped in through the exit and lurked by the door on the other side of a metal railing. Tony Pipes stood outside on the sidewalk. At the parking lot end, Nino waited as backup. His bloodstained collar stuck to his neck. His eyes were glassed over.

  When the ride finished and the nanny and child wandered into the parking lot area, Fat Mikey and Vincenzo would corral the nanny and child towards the cars. That was the plan hashed out before Vincenzo arrived. But the two didn't do that. After the music ended, they immediately re-entered the building for another turn. And then the girls from the party filed in, obnoxious and loud and drunk. Fat Mikey told himself not to let things get out of hand, but with the public place,
the drunk broads, the hard-to-get nanny, he felt the situation suddenly become unpredictable. The music played, the lights flickered. The merry-go-round came alive one more time.

  Inside the carousel, Lucina exchanged words with the girls. Then Lucina slugged one of them. Fat Mikey doubled over laughing. He didn't see that coming.

  A melee erupted, like a professional wrestling battle royale. The wedding party versus Lucina. The fight spilled off the merry-go-round deck and onto the cement floor. The minimum wage attendant tried to usher them outside. Lucina pinned one of the girls to the ground and grabbed a fistful of her hair. The others took turns yelling, scratching, punching, even kicking. Aware she was outmatched, Lucina yelled in a throaty voice, "Gun! She has a gun!"

  People screamed. The place erupted into chaos and panic. People ran for the lone exit and Lucina found herself swept forward. Charles reached for her hand. The people in line passed through a turnstile so they could only push forward, doubling the amount of people rushing the exit. Lucina yelled again. "She has a gun!"

  Fat Mikey couldn't reach the exit in time. He tried to signal Vincenzo but he was out of sight, the exit mobbed with people clawing over each other to get out.

  Someone screamed for security.

  Vincenzo waited by the exit, separated from the mob by a metal railing. He saw what she had done and allowed himself a smile at her diversion. But her manufactured distraction split the nanny from the boy and he saw this too. The boy rode the muscular current of people heading for the exit. Vincenzo seized the boy by one arm. But the metal railing prevented him from succeeding in abducting the boy. Vincenzo stood on one side and the flood of people, including the boy were on the other. With both hands, he tried to lift the boy over, but he was too heavy and wouldn't stop moving. Vincenzo couldn't secure his grip on the boy's sweaty hands.

  Somehow, Lucina pushed her way through the people, found the boy and grabbed him by his hand. She was half way out the door with a vice-like grip on the boy’s forearm, but Vincenzo was not done. He seized the boy by the bicep and refused to release his grip. The momentum of the crowd shifted forward, unbuckling Vincenzo's grip and the boy and nanny were ejected outside. Hand in hand, they raced across the lawn towards the Inn. People fled in all directions.

  Vincenzo climbed over the metal railing. He started to give chase but his lungs seized up. He doubled over, his hands on his chest. Unable to get a full breath, he gobbled the warm night air in deep breaths. His hands felt inside his jacket for his inhaler. Wheezing. He jammed it into his mouth, inhaled twice, and instantly felt better.

  Security raced across the lawn in a kind of golf cart. Amber lights from an approaching park service car lit up the trees.

  "What a crazy bitch," someone said.

  "Call the police," someone else cried.

  Hearing sirens, Fat Mikey decided to split and fast-walked to his car. Suddenly, Lucina and the boy sprinted past and hopped into a blue MG. She revved the engine, the car reversed out of the spot, then powered forward. He spotted Vincenzo in the chaotic crowd and yelled, "She's in a blue MG. The convertible! The blue one."

  With only one way in and out of the park, they could still get her. By the tone of Vincenzo's voice, he understood this. Vincenzo yelled to Nino, already in position with a view of the outbound traffic. “Stop the blue convertible!” The road curled beneath the far end of the parking lot and merry-go-round, well within range.

  Nino pulled out his brother's pistol and sighted in the section of road below. Still reeling from his neck injury, he wasn’t able to hold the pistol steady. He took another step, disgorged a rock and lost his footing. Both rock and Nino tumbled toward the slope bottom. He hit his head, lost his grip on the loaner pistol, and came to a stop in the dirt shoulder beside the road. He rose to his feet and looked around, his eyes bulging in pain. He took a step forward onto the pavement and into a pair of rushing headlights. He struck his hand up as a red lifted Chevy Blazer ran him down.

  Vincenzo witnessed the Chevy run over his brother, briefly flashing its brake light before deciding to split. He followed the path his brother took, recovered the dropped pistol, and found his brother bloody and dead on the road. While Vincenzo squatted over his brother, the blue MG zipped by and disappeared.

  A BMW stopped alongside Vincenzo. Tony Pipes got out to help carry Nino's drooping body into the trunk, and that was it. Vincenzo said he wanted to bury his brother. No one complained, no one muttered a word. Heading east, the BMW crossed the Hudson River, and entered a state park walled with towering pine trees. Tony Pipes pulled onto the shoulder and the men waited. Street lights illuminated the roadside in a hazy white light. Tony Pipes and Vincenzo carried the body for fifteen minutes into the forest using a penlight to find their way. When they reached a small clearing free of large rocks, Vincenzo said he would take it from here. Tony Pipes returned to the BMW.

  With the penlight clenched between his teeth, Vincenzo removed his suit jacket and covered his brother with it. He then rolled up his sleeves and dug a shallow grave in the bastard black dirt with his bare hands. He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his brother's shirt and removed a St. Christopher's medallion on a thin gold chain. He removed his brother's wallet and found a double-sided coin in his front pocket. Vincenzo couldn't help but smile. Next, Vincenzo transferred all of his brother's belongings to his own breast pocket. Then he dragged his brother into the shallow grave and made the sign of the cross.

  His brother deserved better. Nino's scalp had been pulled over his face. His skull was cracked in two halves almost like a walnut. Vincenzo wasn't sure how the skull remained together. He threw black dirt on the body until a turtle shaped mound formed. The black soil felt both cold and moist to his fingers. He found knots of ferns and leaves and covered the upturned earth with them. Growing up the brothers were inseparable, and now, for the first time, Vincenzo would finish a job without his brother.

  With nothing else more to do, he started for the car. He moved through the forest like a spider on a web, picking his way gracefully between unearthed rocks and fallen logs. Before he got to the edge of the road, he took a hit off his inhaler. His lungs, as though lined with wool, itched and hurt in a way that he had not experienced. He felt hot all over.

  In the car, Fat Mikey said, "Man, I'm sorry about your brother. That's just bad luck."

  A while later, Vincenzo said, "In Campania we have a saying for just such a moment when a loved one passes. Crying for the dead gives useless tears. In this world, there is no such thing as bad luck. My brother lacked discipline and was condemned by fate."

  When they returned to the Bear Mountain Inn two hours later, the parking lot was nearly empty as though the earlier events had never happened. Tony Pipes took the BMW and disappeared. Vincenzo removed his shirt, slipped the gold chain with the St. Christopher's medallion around his neck, put on a fresh white dress shirt and tucked it into his pants. He had black dirt beneath his fingernails.

  With his jacket back on, his expression returned to business. The job still had to be finished. He got behind the wheel of the Audi. Fat Mikey shouted into his phone at Rizzo.

  It was nearly midnight.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  IN OCTOBER 2012, Yoselyn Ortega stabbed to death two small children under her care, ages two and six. When the mother, Marina Krim, returned home, she found her children dead in a bathtub. Yoselyn then attempted to take her own life by slicing her throat. Four years later, the upcoming trial created a flood of sensational headlines, haunting both the tabloid and mainstream media.

  Soon after the death of Charles' parents in the summer of 2016, Dot sat on the terrace of the Larchmont home reading the newspaper. After sending Charles to his room for some infraction, she read an article about the upcoming trial and the idea struck her. Dot contemplated how such a plan would work. A nanny was key to her plot—someone psychologically unstable with a history of outbursts but not quite insane enough to incite suspicion of her employment. She needed someone
close to the edge with a troubled history undisclosed to them until after the boy's murder. But where could she find such a person? The media called Ortega the "Killer Nanny." That's what Dot needed. But such a person—a true "Killer Nanny"—seemed impossible to find. But maybe she could fake it.

  In November 2012, William Howell was sentenced to five years for embezzling almost a million dollars from his employer, Arc Bathroom Supplies. William Howell was their best regional salesman for eight years running. He sold urinal cakes to large corporate clients in the northeast. He liked to joke that getting pissed on was part of the job. Sales taught him a lot about people. Sometimes, people needed an extra push to close the deal. Liquor, cigars, and sometimes sex, were usually enough to sway a sale in his favor. He liked the job. Had autonomy and low pressure, unlike the nascent career on Wall Street that he left behind. At his deposition he blamed his wife for his stealing from a company that treated him so well, citing his desire to support her lavish lifestyle needs.

  He ended up in a federal prison in North Carolina where he shared a cell with James Rizzo, a rising capo in the Luitini crime family. Prison overcrowding and good behavior saw Howell released from prison in two years. Rizzo had a lengthy rap sheet for extortion, felony theft, and various other sins, and was not as lucky as Howell. Rizzo served nearly his entire sentence and was released in October 2018. Not long after, Rizzo met with Dot and Will at a pizzeria in Queens owned by Rizzo's sister where Dot pitched her Ortega-inspired plan. After just a few moments of consideration, Rizzo said it could be done.